


Dulcet Tones

by Shi_Toyu



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Bodyguard, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rock Stars, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 18:01:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6818419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shi_Toyu/pseuds/Shi_Toyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is a rock star trying to get his life back in order after a traumatizing incident and being followed around by some bodyguard with a very distracting ass wasn't helping...or was it?</p>
<p>
  <em>Tony was shaking as he stumbled off the stage, his composure and grace falling away from him as he slipped out of view of his audience. God, what idiot had let that asshole into the show with a megaphone anyway? </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dulcet Tones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [syriala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/syriala/gifts).



> Based on a prompt Syriala posted on Tumblr. Truly inspiring.
> 
> Prompt: “I’m an idol and I’m on the cusp of a nervous breakdown after a particularly riotous show and you’re a bodyguard and you reassure me and wow I want to keep this professional but did anyone ever tell you that you have a very soothing voice” AU

Tony was shaking as he stumbled off the stage, his composure and grace falling away from him as he slipped out of view of his audience. God, what idiot had let that asshole into the show with a megaphone anyway? One of the roadies who’d been with him for the past three tours, Parker, took his guitar without a word. Tony ignored his looks of concern as the artist all but ripped off his mic, already turned off, and tossed it onto a table where several more were neatly laid out.

Pepper was nowhere in sight, of course. She would be handling the whole debacle of that guy and having him removed, maybe even turned over to the police. God dammit. This was not something Tony wanted to be dealing with. Didn’t people think he felt bad enough already? He’s disappeared from the limelight entirely for a good three months after what’d happened but _still_ they hounded him. He drew a shaky breath as he headed toward his dressing room. He had a bottle of whiskey stashed away in there, hidden where Pepper couldn’t find it. He needed to get black out drunk before his mind succeeded in dragging him under.

A shadow loomed out of the darkness of the backstage and Tony flinched away, half reacting to the current situation and half to the attack he was remembering. It took him a moment to recognize the guy as his newest bodyguard, the one Rogers had rather insistently brought on board even though Tony kept saying he didn’t _need_ any more bodyguards. Apparently he was an old friend or something. Tony didn’t care all that much. He really only knew the guy had a prosthetic arm and moves that had Happy all but singing his praises. Tony had taken one look at the guy’s ass and decided he needed to stay far, far away.

“Hey,” the guy said gently and, wow, that was a smooth voice. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He had his hands reaching forward just a bit, moving toward Tony cautiously and it was the first time the rock star realized he was trembling. Fuck, of course he was. He was clearly too much of a god damned wimp to be dealing with any of this. He dragged a hand across his face, reminding himself to grab a towel when he got to his room since he was covered in so much sweat.

“I’m fine,” he growled, turning away from the dark-haired bodyguard and stomping further along his path. “What do you want?”

The guy had already been there a month and hadn’t felt the need to speak to him before this. Tony didn’t know what he could possibly want now.

“Happy’s still doing a perimeter check with the others,” the guard explained, falling into step behind him. Tony could just barely make out the soft footfalls of his leather boots. “He wanted someone to be with you in case there were any more...incidents. That guy with the megaphone snuck in so he’s not trusting this place to have kept anyone else out either.”

A shiver ran down Tony’s spine and he suppressed the urge to turn around and find the rest of his security as fast as possible to cower behind them. Why couldn’t everyone just _leave him alone?_

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he said instead, forcing bitterness and a haughty attitude.

He was Tony Stark, dammit. He didn’t need anyone. He was a rock star, a legend, and he wasn’t going to fall apart because of one guy with a megaphone calling him a murderer. He’d been called everything in the book before. Murderer wasn’t so bad. Really. He clenched his fists to stop the shaking.

“Look, I’m just doing my job, okay? And I don’t want anything to happen to you anymore than you do, so just let me check your dressing room before you go in and then I’ll wait outside the door until Happy and the others get back. Then we can move you to your bus and that’ll be the end of it. You won’t even know I’m there.”

He sounded miffed, which Tony couldn’t really blame him for. The idol was acting like an ass, after all, but at least that meant he wouldn’t be around to watch Tony have a total meltdown. That was the last thing Tony needed, the story of him having a breakdown sold to every rag and news channel available. It’d sure pay better than being a bodyguard. At least for a while. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Sure. Whatever. Just make it quick.”

Tony waited impatiently while the guard entered his dressing room, one hand on the gun at his hip. He was, indeed, quick but also thorough and Tony’s nerves appreciated that the small amount he was able. It was driving him near-mad to keep standing out in the open. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest in the mockery of a hug, trying to hold himself together. He didn’t even realize the guard had come back out until a gloved hand was gripping his shoulder.

“You alright?”

“ _Fine,_ ” he insisted again, storming into his room and slamming the door in the guard’s stupid, concerned face.

What right did he have to look at Tony like that? Like he was _broken_ and needed _pity_. Tony headed over to the couch and rooted around behind it until his hand found the bottle of whiskey he’d stashed there earlier with Clint’s help. Thank God for Clint. He tore off the seal and gulped down three big mouthfuls straight from the bottle. He didn’t feel like wasting time. There was a small table across the way with a chair before it and a mirror above. Tony noted absently that he looked like an absolute wreck.

His hair, normally expertly styled, was disheveled from where he’d run his hands through it. His sweat had turned his guyliner into a thick rings of blackish-grey instead of the small accent it was supposed to be. He was pale beneath his tan and his eyes were wide with fear. No wonder that bodyguard had been so damn careful with him. He looked like he needed a little special treatment. He cursed colorfully and took another swig from the bottle.

“Well, you sure know how to throw a party,” he muttered ruefully to himself.

He crossed slowly to the table, dropping heavily into the seat and thunking the bottle down on top of it. He snatched up the towel sitting there all neatly folded and scrubbed it across his face and the back of his neck. He needed to get himself straightened out before Pepper saw him, or Happy since Happy would just report directly to Pepper anyway.

With his eyes closed, he could remember the attack quite distinctly. He could remember the way the knife had flashed in the dim light, how it’d hurt when the hilt of it cracked against the side of his head. Tony was no stranger to concussions, but that had been by far the bloodiest one he’d ever gotten. He could practically feel the tackiness of the blood between his fingers as he struggled to get the knife away from his attacker, the feeling of the knife sliding between the other man’s ribs. The star threw himself to the side, his knees hitting the floor hard as he retched into the trashcan set beside the table. His head was pounding nearly as much as it had been that night, he noted dimly.

He whipped around at the sound of splintering wood and the door slapping against the wall. Tony was half-under the table before he recognized the bodyguard storming into his dressing room with his gun drawn. As soon as he noted the coast was clear, the guard holstered his weapon and bee-lined for Tony.

“Are you alright? I heard-“

“Did you just kick in the door?”

Tony was trembling again, he noted vaguely, and had a suspicious amount of wetness in his eyes. From throwing up, of course. It wasn’t like he was about to _cry_ or anything. The guard glanced between him and the door, looking almost sheepish for a moment before crouching down just a few feet away. Somehow, it made Tony feel a bit better not to have the guy towering over him.

“Yeah. I, uh, I guess I got a little carried away.”

“Yah _think_?”

This time, the bite in Tony’s words just seemed to roll right off the guy’s back. He crept a little bit closer, but stopped when Tony tensed up again.

“I got worried, was all,” he admitted in a gentle voice and Tony couldn’t help but feel how his muscles relaxed just a little bit. “I was in the army, you know. Don’t know if Stevie told you about that. I got invalidated home.” He shrugged. “’s how I lost the arm. But, yeah, I can get jumpy sometimes and this whole load of bullshit’s got me on high alert…Sorry about the door.”

Tony stared at him.

“No, it’s…fine.”

The guard smiled at him, extending a hand out toward him where he was still tucked under the desk for some scant amount of cover.

“Do you wanna come out of there? It’s totally okay if you don’t, but the couch might be a bit more comfortable.”

Tony eyed the hand for a long moment before letting his own reach out toward it. He didn’t normally react well to people when he was freaked out like this but something about this guy made him feel…okay. Somewhat safe, at least. Maybe it was the soothing way he was talking, or the way he projected his movements before he made them. His hand wrapped warmly around Tony’s, pulling him gently out from under the table and then all but curling his body around the idol to guide him over to the couch. The warmth was comforting, Tony would admit.

The guard stayed close after they’d settled in, not leaving Tony’s side. He was grateful for that, actually, though he did rather with the guard had brought the bottle of whiskey over with them. An arm wrapped around his shoulders and he leaned into the contact. He glanced up into icy-grey eyes and immediately looked away. The guard snorted a bit.

“You’re sure shy for a rock star.”

“And you’re mouthy for hired muscle.”

The guard grinned at him.

“You have Steve _and_ Clint working for you. I don’t think I rate as mouthy by a long shot.”

Tony settled further into his side, suddenly exhausted. He always did after his episodes. This hadn’t been a full one, but considering it had happened at the end of a concert Tony was still wiped out.

“Eh,” he huffed out. “I kind of hope you keep it up. I like your voice.”

And, wow, yeah, that was going to be embarrassing later but for now his eyelids were drooping and his guard was warm and surprisingly comfortable. It was like cuddling with Rhodey if Rhodey had a sultry, deep voice that made Tony want to curl his toes and purr like a jungle cat.

“Oh, really?” The shoulder beneath Tony’s head rumbled with a chuckle. “I guess I could do that, then. What do you want? A bedtime story?”

Tony swatted at his knee ineffectually, bringing his legs up onto the couch to settle in a bit more.

“Don’t be an ass.” He paused. “I don’t even know your name.”

The guy snorted.

“Of course you don’t. Big ol’ rock star like you. Why would Tony Stark notice little ol’ me?”

Tony pouted.

“I _noticed_ you. Couldn’t _not_. Just tried to avoid you as much as I could.”

The muscles under Tony’s head tensed.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Last thing I need is another sexual harassment claim when I can’t keep my mouth shut and I tell you how great your ass looks in leather.”

The guard choked on air.

“What?”

“Mmm,” Tony hummed. “If you’d just bent over at the interview I would have hired you on the spot.” He yawned so hugely his jaw cracked. “Tha’s why Pepper doesn’t let me show up at the interviews anymore. Well, that and the time one of the applican’s tried to shoot me.”

A hand found its way into his hair, carding through the messy strands. At least the muscles beneath him had relaxed again.

“Go to sleep,” the guard said. “You’re delirious.”

Tony made an affronted noise but didn’t argue.

“…And my name’s Bucky.”

Tony definitely wasn’t going to argue with that.


End file.
